The First Chronicles of the Mountain Hermit
by Durza II
Summary: A generation has passed since Galbatorix was defeated in battle by Eragon and Saphira. Since then Alagaesia has prospered with the dissolution of the Empire and the recreation of the human nations. But peace never lasts. Some evils simply refuse to die...


Two figures flitted down the ravine quickly, the second figure managing it much more gracefully than the first. As soon it hit the ground, the first figure immediately started walking forward, not waiting for its partner. Despite this the second figure only took a second to catch up, its form seeming to melt into the twilight air and then reforming next to the first figure.

"Where are we going, human?" the second figure asked.

"You are always testy in the morning. Maybe you should go to sleep," replied the first figure.

"Do not try my patience," the second figure said in a cold voice.

The first figure sighed. "Very well, very well, calm down. Since you have been grumbling for the past five years that I slow you down and don't carry my own weight and am making your quest to find your masters harder, I have finally come up with a solution."

"Explain yourself."

"To be honest, I don't know what's going to happen, but it certainly can't be any worse than having to go through another day of your whining."

"… I am going to figure out how to kill you, one of these nights."

"That's the spirit!" the first figure exclaimed maniacally. The two continued walking in silence for another hour, and despite the fact that the sun had raised into the morning sky, their path remained basked in twilight for they were walking deeper into a valley overshadowed by old oaks and maples. The first figure's breathing grew more ragged as the time passed, while the second's did not register at all.

"The sunlight is beginning to irritate me," the second figure said. "How much farther do we have to walk?"

"Another ten minutes, I think," the first figure gasped.

"What do you hope to accomplish, exactly?" asked the second figure.

"Thousands of years ago a mad man was born, and so profound was his madness that it transcended into brilliance. He managed what no one else was able to, what no one had ever thought possible. He transmuted his very being while still managing to keep his mind intact. That is what I attempt to accomplish."

"You are nowhere near intelligent enough, if what you say is true."

"Ha, ha, very funny. I won't argue with that statement, though. But I always was a resourceful lad, and not without my own brilliance."

"Mmm."

"Is that sarcasm?"

The second figure did not reply.

After ten minutes of walking the two came up to a small structure. The first figure started ripping off the moss, lichen and vines that had covered it over the millennia. After a couple of minutes the totem pole was completely bared. The wear and tear of the ages was evident, but it was still in remarkable shape. The pole was ten feet high, and divided into three clear sections. The bottom section was a monkey covering its mouth, the middle section was a monkey covering its ears, and the top section was a monkey covering its eyes.

"What is this?" the second figure asked, and his voice held a curious tone, almost like fear. The first figure turned toward him and smiled evilly.

"There is a legend behind this totem pole," it began as it reached for the bottom monkey and moved the arms away from the mouth. "It was a time of great evils, and so the clan chief of the dwarves who lived in this valley prayed to the gods for the safety of his people. The gods, taking pity on him, answered his prayers. They told him that should he manage to slay three demons, three of the greatest demons in the land, his people would not need to fear anything, so long as they remained within this valley." The figure moved away the arms of the middle monkey. "And so the clan chief went on his quest. Great though his foes were, the clan chief slew all three of them. As mementos of his battles, he took the red eyes of the fifty feet long giant wolf, the fangs of the hundred feet long serpent, and the ears of the hundred and fifty feet tall giant bat. Upon returning to his home, with all his loyal villagers waiting with a banquet at the ready, the gods asked for the man to give them the mementos." The first figure moved away the arms of the top monkey. "Kneeling down, the man complied and laid the three items at the feet of the gods. There was a bright flash of purple light, and when it had passed the gods, the clan chief, and the mementos had all vanished. All that remained was a ten feet tall totem pole made out of three monkeys. As the villagers watched, the top monkey on the totem pole, which had ruby-red eyes, suddenly moved its arms and covered its eyes. The middle monkey, which had huge black ears, suddenly moved its arms and covered its ears. The bottom monkey, which had large fangs instead of teeth, suddenly moved its arms and covered its mouth. From then on the Dwarven villagers were protected from all evil, and they would never be influenced to commit evil, thanks to the sacrifice of their great leader."

The first figure moved away from the totem pole and looked at it. "Mmm," it uttered, "looks like the legend was right." The monkeys on the totem pole matched the monkeys in the story.

"What is this?" the second figure asked again, this time more forcefully. Its silky voice had changed into a guttural one.

"Oh, I completely forgot," the first figure said in a tone of voice that indicated otherwise. "This totem pole was the object of worship for many a century for the dwarves that lived in this valley. I guess that would make it an object of faith."

"Treachery," the second figure breathed incensed.

"No, not treachery," the first figure said as it looked up into the sky. "What ever reason would I have to betray you?" It moved away from the second figure as a disturbance started in the air.

"You might be impervious to physical attack, human, but I swear if I live through this I will find a way to kill you!"

"Hasty words," the first figure whispered. "Just calm down, will you?" It moved to the totem pole as a figure started appearing twenty feet above the ground. It was perhaps fifty feet tall, had a small head with square features that looked like they could transform into expressions of great joy just as much as incredible rage; large brutish arms that reached down to its knees; and it wore ragged old clothing. The second figure started shivering uncontrollably.

"This is no normal object of faith," it whispered as its gaze flickered from the totem pole to the apparition. "What is going on? What is this wraith? Answer me!"

"I said calm down," the first figure muttered even as the wraith started roaring in anger at the second figure. Quickly the first figure removed the eyes off the top monkey, the ears off the middle monkey and the two fangs off the bottom monkey. The giant wraith immediately turned to the first figure and roared so loud the first figure's ears started bleeding. Not paying it any attention the first figure lay supine on the ground. It placed the rubies over its eyes, the ears over its own ears and the fangs into its mouth. The wraith immediately stopped roaring and stared intently at the man.

"_Dost thou challenge me, worm?"_ it asked in a guttural accent.

"I may have lost all my powers when that _boy_ defeated me, but I know the power of my mind. Yes, measly Shade, I challenge you."

The second figure could only watch in fascination as the battle of wills began between his annoying companion and the giant wraith. He did not believe for a second that his companion would win. He had been travelling with the human male for nigh on five years, and had been sharing a dungeon with him for another five and twenty years. The man might have been a mighty force once, but all that remained was an empty husk that resisted all efforts to expunge it from existence. When the man had removed the artefacts from the totem pole the hold on the second figure had been broken. The object of faith had been deconsecrated and therefore did not hold any power over him any more. Despite this he did not move any closer. In fact he moved further away. The moment his companion was conquered by the wraith he would immediately leave. It would be a great loss and would foul his plans, but not unduly. As he watched, however, the look on the giant wraith's face grew more and more consternated. After a whole hour, in which the only sound was of the old man breathing evenly and the wind blowing through the valley, the giant wraith suddenly gave a cry of horror and fear.

"_No!"_ was all it uttered before it suddenly disappeared. There was a great roll of thunder as the air rushed to fill the space the wraith had just occupied. Fascinated, the second figure moved closer. The old man laid on the ground started writhing in agony. His flesh started to boil. A stench filled the air, and the second figure wrinkled its nose as it smelt decaying flesh. It watched with growing horrid fascination as the first figure's flesh decayed off the body until only the bones were left. A purple light suddenly encompassed the bones, and after several heartbeats in dissipated.

The old man had disappeared. In his place was a new person, a younger person. The second figure had no doubt that this was his companion in a younger and stronger body. The body was muscular and smooth, the face handsome, with high cheekbones and mesmerising purple eyes, and long black hair. As the man stood up he cut his finger on a shard of broken ruby. The second figure's nosed twitched, and he had to work hard to resist the sudden impulse to pounce.

"Ha!" the second figure shouted in triumph. "You are no longer impervious to physical attack! Now you will pay for all your insolence."

"Yes, it seems my protection had to be sacrificed," a deep and silky voice replied. "But it was well worth it, for I have regained my powers." The man then began to chant softly, and when he was standing tall, a good height of seven inches above six feet, purple light enveloped the body. When it disappeared the man was clothed in silk finery of purple and gold, which he wore with a black and silver hauberk, vambraces, greaves, black leather boots and a flowing black cape. A broadsword hung on his left hip; it had a purple sheath, with a golden crosspiece in the shape of dragon wings, a long hilt wrapped in black leather and silver filigree, and the pommel was four talons gripping a large purple gemstone.

"Ah," the man sighed contentedly as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword. "I have missed you greatly, _Freohr_." The man frowned as he looked at the second figure hidden among the shadows of the trees. "I have regained my powers, although not all of them. But they will have to suffice until I can find that _boy_ and his island. Until then, how about we set about locating your King and Queen? With my powers it will be easy."

The second figure slowly stepped out of the shadows, its face impassive and its fingers hovering above the hilt of its own sword. The man was pleased to see a hint of fear and caution in the creature's eyes.

"Very well. Let us go."

A purple light surrounded both figures, and in a flash both were gone, and the valley returned to its former twilight once again.

XXX

The elf maiden stood perfectly still, her attention fixed on the slowly revolving heavens. The bitterness of winter had finally passed, replaced instead by the fresh spring air. Although the flowers and plants were in constant bloom, sustained by her people's magic, spring still represented rebirth to her people, and as such Du Weldenvarden was always a colourful and wondrous sight to behold at such times. As Aiedel set, and along with it the moon, the elf took in a deep breath as the first rays of the sun hit her skin. Her people were wrong, she thought. Rebirth happened every day, as the moon set and the sun rose. It was no wonder dragons loved the desert. The cold nights were a good price to pay for the sunny days.

"Arya Drottningu."

Arya slowly opened her eyes and turned to face the elf that had disturbed her. His long black hair and austere black clothing always made him look rather solemn. The blade at his hip was likewise unadorned, apart from the pyramidal yellow diamond set into the pommel. Only the gem encrusted gold-and-silver circlet on his head held more than two colours.

"May good fortune rule over you," the elf began.

"Peace live in your heart," she replied.

"And may the stars watch over you," he finished, and she hid a smile at the elf's manoeuvre to try to appease her.

"Why have you disturbed me?" Arya asked softly.

"Islanzadi Drottning requests your presence at once," the elf replied.

Arya paused as she surveyed the elf. From his tone of voice it sounded as if her mother had demanded rather than requested.

"Where is she?" Arya asked.

"By the Menoa Tree, Arya Drottning."

"Very well, let us go," she said, offering her arm. The elf approached her and took her arm, and with a slight bow led her away from the rock outcropping that allowed her an uninterrupted view of the heavens. They walked in silence, their footsteps silent on the forest floor. As they walked Arya wondered what had prompted the summons. She was rarely involved in matters of court, only getting involved when there were important matters of state that required her presence. Her life had become a quiet one. Her mother, although she didn't agree with her choices, respected that. What, then, was the purpose and reason of the summons? What momentous events required her presence?

When she reached the Menoa Tree she saw her mother waiting impatiently, surrounded by a lord and two ladies. The elf lord that had brought Arya bowed to her, and then to the Queen, and joined his counterpart beside the Queen. Her mother had not changed at all, much to Arya's amusement. She was still as fiery as ever, which tended to keep her lords and ladies on their toes.

"Mother," Arya said bowing and touching her lips with two fingers. She greeted her formally, and then the lords and ladies, before turning back to her mother expectantly. Her mother did not say anything, however. Islanzadi turned her back to everyone present and approached the Menoa Tree. Kneeling, she reached deep between two thick roots and extracted a golden sphere a foot in diameter. At first it looked like the colour was uniform, but after a few seconds' scrutiny swirls and eddies of golden colour became apparent, with the core of the sphere darker than the surface. Every elf present grew still as they gazed upon the Eldunari, the heart-of-hearts, of Glaedr, the last true dragon of an old Order.

"We are here," Islanzadi intoned. For a few seconds there was silence, and then the Eldunari started glowing.

_It has been a generation since Galbatorix was overthrown_, Glaedr began, _a generation since my partner-of-my-heart Oromis was slain. It is time for me to leave this world and pass into the void_.

"What has brought on this decision, Skulblaka?" Islanzadi asked, sounding troubled.

_My usefulness has come to an end, Islanzadi Drottning. I have guided Helios, Thorn, Saphira and her children as is my duty, to the best of my abilities. The Order of the Riders may have perished, but my race was rescued from the brink of extinction and now thrives, young though it may be. I have no more knowledge or wisdom to pass on. It is time they find their own way._

"Are you sure, Glaedr-elda?" Arya asked sorrowfully.

_I have been pondering this decision for many years now. Yes, I am sure._

"What can we do for you, Glaedr-elda," Islanzadi asked.

_Send my Eldunari to Du Fells Nángoroth. Saphira will know what to do with it._

"Do you want me to summon the dragons at Broken Egg and Scattered Nest?" Islanzadi asked.

_No, there aren't any dragons there. Helios has taken them to the north to learn from Thorn. No, the only dragons nearby are at the Blasted Mountains, and it is my wish to die in the scared place of my ancestors. I only wished to bid farewell to you six, the only elves who know of the dragons' deepest secret._

There was a moment of silence as all the present elves digested the situation. Finally, Islanzadi spoke. "Very well. Farewell, Skulblaka."

"Farewell," the other elves echoed.

_May good fortune rule over you, peace live in your heart, and may the stars watch over you_. Glaedr's tone of voice carried the weight of finality. Nothing else needed to be said. The elven lords and ladies stepped back as their queen started uttering the spell that would send Glaedr to his end. An indigo light surrounded the Eldunari, and in a flash of light it disappeared. They stood there, six lords and ladies, and simultaneously started the keening dirge that swept throughout Ellesméra and the rest of Du Weldenvarden, carrying with it Glaedr's last blessing.

XXX

As the sun's first rays hit the golden desert sand, the man stopped walking, took off his large conical straw hat and sighed in contentment. It had been a long time since he'd last felt such rays. After a few minutes he sighed again, put his hat back on, tied it under his chin and continued on his journey. Already he was sweating from the heat, but it did not cause him any undue amount of discomfort. He had endured far worse during his journeys. Far ahead he could just begin to see the outline of his destination. It would be another two or three hours of walking before he reached it. Taking out his water-skin from within his robe he shook it, and frowned at how little water was left. Opening it, he drank what was left of his water before kneeling down. Using his hands he shovelled a deep hole that accommodated his water-skin snugly, and then stared at the hole intently. After a few seconds water started trickling into the hole, quickly filling it up. The man quickly filled his water-skin, took off his hat, elbow-length fingerless gloves took off the leather belt that held his five feet long lute to his back, and then proceeded to wash his head, face, neck and arms. The water was refreshingly cold. After a few more minutes of drying in the heat, the man put back on his gloves, hat, pulled the leather belt of his lute over his neck, stood up and continued on his journey. The water in the hole behind him quickly drained away, and by the time the man was just a mere dot on the horizon there was no sign of it ever having existed.

The man made very good time and reached his destination, a small range of seven very tall mountains, in just under two hours. The mountains were in a circle, with a deep and luscious valley at the centre. The man came at the mountains, named _Du Fells Nángoroth_ by the elves, from the west and was therefore able to see the dragons flying around them in great detail. His breath caught in his chest as he saw the sun glinting off their scales, creating a corona of colour around the mountains, a perpetual rainbow. It was a beautiful sight to behold. As he came closer he noticed a few dragons turn his way, watching his progress. _Du Fells Nángoroth_, also known as the Blasted Mountains, was sacred to the dragons. He doubted anyone desiring to live had gone within a league of them. As he came within a mile of the closest mountain one of the dragons detached itself from its brethren and flew toward him at great speed. It roared a challenge at him, no doubt trying to scare him away, but he ignored it and continued walking. Miffed by his reaction the dragon circled him slowly as he continued toward the peaks. When he was but a thousand feet from the base of the closest mountain the dragon roared again, this time louder and more menacingly. A stream of flame erupted from its maw and straight into his path, halting him. In a few seconds the dragon had landed in front of him, sinewy muscles rolling beneath the shiny green scales.

_Begone, human_. The voice, undoubtedly male, rumbled menacingly through the man's head.

"Good morning to you to," the man replied with a small bow of his head.

_Don't test my patience, human! We are forbidden to plague your lands, but no such constraints bind me here. Begone!_

"I have come to speak with Saphira," the man said. The dragon paused and looked at him intently.

_What business do you have with her?_ It finally asked.

"I am an old friend come to visit."

_The only friends she has are with your kind's leaders, with the dwarves or with the elves. You are going to have to lie better than that. Now, begone!_

"Vel einradhin, Saphira Bjartskular un eka rae fricai," the man replied. Upon my word, Saphira Brightscales and I are friends. The dragon blinked and drew its head back.

_Very well, human_, the dragon replied, _but you had best hope she sees it that way. You would not be the first creature she's tore limb from limb. Climb up onto my shoulders and I shall transport you to her._

"If it's all the same to you, I shall walk. Just tell me where she is."

_Suit yourself… she is in the valley between the mountains. I shall tell my brethren not to attack you._

"Thank you," the man said. Just as the dragon was about to take off, it tensed. The man cocked his head sideways for a second, as if trying to catch a sound hovering at the edge of his senses. After a second he returned to his normal posture and waited patiently for the dragon's attention to return to him.

_You'd better get on my back_, it said after a few seconds' pause. _Something is happening, and we need to get there as soon as possible_. Even as the dragon spoke, the man saw the dragons that had been flying about suddenly head toward the space between the mountains.

"What is going on?" the man asked even as he lightly ran up one of the dragon's forearms and onto the space between its shoulders.

_We are saying farewell to one of our elders_.

XXX

Saphira was sleeping peacefully under the shade of a giant oak tree when she was disturbed. She felt the fabric of space change about her and stretch, as if accommodating something new. Lazily opening one eye she saw an indigo flash of light high above. Even as she roused herself a golden orb slowly floated down from the sky. She blinked in surprise.

_Glaedr-ebrithil?_

_It has been a long time, Saphira._

_What are you doing here?_

_I have come to say farewell._

_Farewell?_

_My time on this earth has come to an end, Saphira. It is time I follow Oromis into the void._

… _Are you sure, ebrithil?_

_Aye._

…_Very well. I shall summon the others._ Saying that, Saphira filled her lungs and roared her summons. _Come!_ She also shouted with her mind.

_Thank you, Saphira. I wish to say farewell to the hatchlings before I depart._

_You will be sorely missed, ebrithil._

_I am no longer your master, Saphira, but I shall miss you too. I shall miss all of you._

_You will always be my master… You're the only other member of the old Order left, master. After you're gone, I shall be alone…_

_No, you won't. There is still Thorn, and Murtagh._

_Thorn remembers not his time as Murtagh's life-partner. Galbatorix's a-cursed meddling tampered with his memory. Besides, Thorn and Murtagh never got the chance to learn what it meant to be a true Shur'tugal. No, I shall be the only one left._

… _There is still the chance that Eragon will–_

_No, there isn't! Eragon is never returning to Alagaesia. If he isn't dead by now he's still guarding Galbatorix. No, master, I am alone._

_You still mourn him, do you not?_

_Just as you still mourn for Oromis._

_I see … I shall give you one last piece of advice, Saphira; do not abandon hope, for it is always in our darkest moments when the truth is illuminated. I know you have been contemplating passing into the void, but there is still a lot for you to do. The return of dragons to the land is not complete yet. There is still a lot for you and Thorn and Helios to teach the hatchlings. You three are still but hatchlings yourselves. You need to assure that our race is never threatened again. That is your last task._

_I understand ebrithil. Do not fear. I shall not shirk from it._

_I know little one, I know. Now let me address the hatchlings that have assembled._

Saphira barely paid attention as Glaedr addressed her children. The pages of history were turning in her mind. This was the penultimate chapter. Soon she would close the book. She remembered it like it was yesterday when the Varden and the Dwarves and the Elves had marched upon Uru'baen. She remembered it like it was yesterday when Uru'baen was conquered and Murtagh captured. She remembered it like it was yesterday when Galbatorix's absence had sparked a great manhunt, the greatest manhunt in history. It had taken weeks, but finally Eragon and Saphira had found Galbatorix deep within the bowls of Dorú Areaba, on Vroengard, the Riders' island. They were just in time, too, for Galbatorix had been perhaps seconds away from discovering his ultimate weapon; the name of the ancient language. The name would have allowed him control of every living being under the sun, but Eragon's timely fire spell had destroyed the ancient text Galbatorix had been reading from, the text that had contained the final clue. A great fight had ensued, but even without the name Galbatorix had proven to be too powerful an opponent.

Near death, Eragon and she had fled Dorú Areaba. They had fled to the very mountains that Saphira now called home, and it was here Eragon had found and opened the Vault of Souls, using his and Saphira's true names. If it weren't for the fact that a lot depended on them, discovering their true names might have incapacitated them, but they were able to conquer their shock. The power they had gained from the Vault of Souls was awe-inspiring. With it Eragon was finally able to conquer Galbatorix, but could not kill him. Galbatorix had somehow managed to cast a spell that made him impervious to any physical attack. He could not be killed, either by sword or magic. Eragon had even tried to use the twelve words of death taught to him by Oromis, but Galbatorix had closed his mind to outside influence. And so it was Eragon himself who came up with the solution. Galbatorix only had his power because he was a Rider, and so to take away his power … they had to take away the Riders. And so Eragon had transported himself, Galbatorix, Saphira, Shruikan, Islanzadi and her court, Arya, Murtagh, Nasuada, Orrin, Orik, Roran and Katrina to a remote island. No one knew where it was, apart from Eragon. He'd gotten the co-ordinates from a scroll at Dorú Areaba, a scroll only the head Rider and his Council had known about. With his power, the power gained from the dragons of old, Eragon had unmade the enchantment that had been used to bind the very souls and fates of humans, elves and dragons, and allowed Riders to exist.

It had been a painful Undoing for Eragon and Saphira and Murtagh and Thorn for they were the only true Riders left, very painful indeed, but it was ultimately successful. Galbatorix was stripped of his power and left nothing more than a shadow of his former self, just an old man, albeit an invincible one, maybe even immortal. But Eragon had too been stripped of his power. He was no longer bonded to Saphira, he was no longer a Rider, he was no longer a magician, and the gift of the dragons, the gift that had been given to him during the Blood-oath Celebration and allowed him to possess elven physical abilities, had been taken away from him. He was just another human. Just before the power he had gained from the Vault of Souls left him forever, Eragon sung a great ship into existence, a ship that would transport everyone back to Alagaesia. Eragon had also given Murtagh a gift, in the form of some power, in the hope that it would help him survive, and choose the right path when they got back to Alagaesia. Eragon had allowed no time for farewells, for he knew his duty and did not want to be tempted out of it. With the last dregs of his strength Eragon had sent them sailing back home. Saphira could still remember with acute clarity the cry of anguish that had tore from Eragon's lips as he knelt on the hard earth and watched the partner-of-his-heart, his brothers, his friends, the woman of his dreams, and everything else he held dear sail away while he was doomed to remain on that island, for all eternity if necessary, and guard against Galbatorix ever causing harm again. Galbatorix may have become invincible, maybe even immortal, but he no longer possessed mental or magical abilities. Until Galbatorix died, Eragon would stand guard. It was his final duty as a Rider.

_Saphira_.

Saphira blinked and came back to the present.

_It is time, Saphira._

_Aye, ebrithil._

Saphira drew herself up and gazed intently at the Eldunari.

_Now, Saphira!_

_Farewell, ebrithil._

_Farewell, Saphira. Remember; always keep your heart safe._

_I will._

_Farewell, hatchlings!_ Glaedr's shout encompassed the valley.

_Farewell, elder Glaedr!_ All the dragons cried back with their minds.

Saphira took in a deep breath and roared up at the skies. All her anger and frustration at this tragic event were in the roar, along with her lamentations for times past. Her children followed her lead, also letting loose streams of flame at the sky. Saphira gazed at the Eldunari with finality. Taking another deep breath stood squarely in front of the Eldunari and let loose a long stream of fire so hot it was blue. A crack appeared in the Eldunari. And then another. And another. And finally the Eldunari burst into a million shards. Glaedr's voice floated on the wind as his Eldunari burst.

…_Farewell…_

"Farewell, Master," a voice said softly from her left. Saphira's head whipped round with a quickness belied by her enormous size.

_Who goes there!?_ She growled. She was feeling emotionally raw and in no mood for games.

"Your temper has not gotten any better with time, I see." Although the tone of voice was aiming for light-hearted, it contained a great amount of sorrow.

_I know that voice…_ Saphira thought softly, disbelievingly.

"I should hope so," the man said as he came from under the shade of a tree. He pushed back his large conical straw hat so that it hung from his neck.

_It can't be…_

The man smiled. "It is, friend-of-my-heart."

…_Eragon…?_

"It's been a long time, Saphira," Eragon grinned.

Saphira blinked once, and then suddenly pounced on him like a euphoric hatchling. _Eragon!!!_


End file.
